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Chapter 1
Jacob's Birthday
It was Jacob's thirteenth birthday. In many ways it was no different from all his previous birthdays. They didn't hold a disco at the local club and invite dozens of friends from school. Jacob had no friends. He appeared to want no friends. There was his family--his father, his mother, and his two young sisters, Beth and Josie. That was enough.
So the birthday party was just a birthday tea, with a quiet sense of special occasion. There were only two guests from the outside world: Uncle Mark, Lydia's only brother, her elder by some ten years, and his daughter, Molly. They had come, as always, to deliver a card and a present. They needed no invitation and they knew they would find the family at home. Mark's wife stayed away and sent her excuses.
The white cloth with its deep lace edging was brought out especially for party time. Lydia had baked scones and sausage rolls and made mountains of sandwiches. There were cream cakes from the local bakery and an iced birthday cake with thirteen blue candles. The leftovers, no doubt, would fill many baskets!
Greetings had been exchanged and, with the exception of Beth and Josie, everyone was sitting around waiting for the feast to begin.
Uncle Mark smiled across at Jacob. "So now you are a teenager," he said. "We'll have to treat you like a grown-up!"
"What do you treat a grown-up like, Dad?" said Molly, who was only eleven but slick with it. The question was not asked in all innocence. She was already a dab hand at making fun of her father and the silly things he was apt to do and say. "Will Jacob be able to drink wine and stop out late?"
"I don't want to drink wine and stop out late," said Jacob impatiently. "I want to be spoken to as if what I had to say mattered. I want to be accorded . . ."--he blushed--"intellectual equality."
Mark laughed. His laugh was kindly enough, but to Jacob his manner was insulting. In appearance Mark resembled his sister, but he was far more robust and extrovert. His complexion was rosier and his fair hair was inclined to curl.
"They teach you some big words at that school of yours," he said.
"See what I mean?" said Jacob, turning to his father.
Steven smiled at Mark mockingly. They were a complete contrast. Steven's dark hair was brushed straight back from his forehead. His eyes were the deepest brown. But it was not just in coloring that they differed: Steven was much brighter than his brother-in-law, and not always kindly with it!
"I do see what you mean, my son," he said, as if talking only to Jacob, "but maybe Uncle Mark would rather you opted for a place on the junior rugby team. Scrum half, or something like that?"
"Jacob couldn't play rugby," said Molly scornfully before her father could make any retort. "He can't even run as fast as me. And he's useless at catching."
"I don't want to play rugby," said Jacob patiently. "My brains are not in my boots."
"That's soccer," said Mark, trying to turn the conversation into a joke. "In rugby we mostly run with the ball, not kick it!"
It seemed to him that Jacob had the knack of making people feel uncomfortable. He was always such an outsider. Not like his sisters: Beth and Josie were sturdy little Girl Guides, popular with everybody, and full of fun. They were twins, fair like all their mother's family, with light blue eyes and bright, eager smiles. They were eight years old, not particularly clever, but not stupid either.
"Where are the twins?" said Molly.
"At dancing class," said Lydia as she came in from the kitchen carrying yet another tray of food. "They should be back any minute. Kerry from next door takes them."
She set the tray down on the dining table and found spaces for the plates. Then back to the kitchen again for a jug of apple juice and a pot of tea.
"Come on, then," she said. "Let's all have tea."
"What about the twins?" said Molly, giving her aunt an accusing look. "We can't start without them. It wouldn't be fair."
"I think that's them now," said Steven, hurrying to open the door. And sure enough in came the girls, with Kerry from next door right behind them.
"Come and join us," said Lydia to Kerry. "We're having a birthday tea for Jacob. He's thirteen today."
"No, Mrs. Bradwell--no, thank you. I really have to be getting home," said the sixteen-year-old. Then she turned to Jacob and said, "Happy birthday, Jacob."
Without the prompting, she would never have noticed him. She hardly ever did. As for Jacob, he just shrugged his shoulders and made no reply.
So it was just the family who sat down to tea.
"Aunt Jane will be sorry she's missed this," said Mark, observing how well they all looked as a family, "but you know how things are."
"She's got another headache," said Molly. "My mother is always getting headaches."
"Have a sausage roll," said Lydia hastily. Molly was a precocious child with little sense of loyalty.
Steven, Lydia, and Jacob had little to say as they sat at the table. Lydia and her son were never talkative. Steven, as usual, had little patience with Mark. So silence was best. Beth and Josie more than made up for the rest of the Bradwells. They ate a lot, talked a lot, and then took Molly to their room to see an array of Barbie dolls dressed in every style you could think of.
Jacob was about to make his getaway when Uncle Mark cried, "Hey, not so fast! You haven't opened your present yet."
Jacob smiled weakly and turned to the box that was lying on the floor. Opening presents was always a worry. What if he didn't like what was inside? Last year it had been a football strip two sizes too large. This year it looked as if it might be a football. But, credit where credit is due, when Jacob removed the wrapping and opened the box, what he took out was at least original, though not exactly welcome.
